Hatred
by AnnaRinzler
Summary: ArellaSlade, dark romance fic. M to be really safe. One shot.
1. Love Lust Hoax

Hatred

**As a writer trying desperately to improve her writing style, any comments from seasoned authors on how to improve would be very, very helpful, and much appreciated. Also, just tell me what you thought! I don't care if I get flamed, I really don't. So fire away.**

This is a Slade/Arella romance, a bit misty an abstract in form. I like this pair, mainly because no weird adult/teenager thing goes on. They're right for each other, at least in my mind. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans.

_**Demon witch.**_

_**Heartless Criminal.**_

_The 'terms of endearment' floated silkily across the gap between the couple, a gap that was rapidly narrowing as he forcefully pulled her closer...closer, and closer still._

_Each cut the other. Like a razor sharp knife, a nick here, a slash there._

_Theirs is an odd relationship._

_  
If one could even call it that._

_Honestly?_

_Does she love him?_

Does he love her?

_It depends._

_  
It depends on what you think love is._

_She hates him._

_She knows that._

_She hates him, even as she pulls his mouth to hers, even as she laces her hands through his spiky white hair so he can't get away, even as he smoothes her tears away with a hand that is suddenly gentle._

_He hates her, too._

_Oddly, that is the first thing they find._

_The first thing they have in common._

_But not the last._

_He knows what happened to her._

_He knows what she is._

_Somehow he's repulsed by the thought of her._

_Somehow he never wants to let her go._

_He may be the messenger._

_But she's a messenger angel._

_What do they have?_

_She has no home._

_He has no life._

_Literally._

_But they have each other._

_It's something, isn't it?_

_Some small corner of their minds knows it isn't right._

_What they're doing to each other._

_Each has been force-fed hate._

_  
More and more._

_And now, they're choking on it._

_Choking on it, and coming up for air._

_Opposites attract._

_Or so it's said._

_But hate attracts hate._

_Malice breeds malice._

_Using more force than necessary, he shoves her below him as the soft bed sinks a bit with their combined weight._

_He stares down into her fever-bright, expressive violet eyes._

_Looking straight up, her gaze wanders over his tousled hair, his dark blue stare, his sweat drenched, perfectly sculpted form._

_He wants to hurt her._

_She silently pleads with him, gasping at his lips against her throat, arching her back, _

_And melting against him,_

_She begs him--_

_To hurt her._

_So it's true._

_Misery loves company._


	2. Of Course

**Of Course**

**This is dedicated to CoolGirl on the Slade Wilson Shrine (Join it) and I just thought I'd put another chapter in the short sentence style up here on a whim.**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans_

They love each other, of course. That's why they're kissing.

They remind themselves every day-that they love each other.

"I love you Slade," she whispers, lacing her hands through his white hair and ignoring how he doesn't reply, but just goes in for the attack.

She tries to squirm away, just to see what would happen.

Slade doesn't let her go, roughly dragging her mouth back to his.

Out of the corner of her eye, Arella catches a flash of black and white, laying on the kitchen table.

A newspaper.

She hates the newspaper now.

Teen Titans this, Teen Titans that.

Raven this, Raven that.

It's the guilt that rises like acid in her stomach even while she's kissing him.

She makes up for it by pressing against him harder.

He responds in kind.

Some small part of Slade wants to break her.

And it would be so, so easy.

He pretends, as he's kissing her and sensually massaging his thumb into her shoulder, he pretends that she's here-for him.

Slade ignores the fact that she needs food and shelter; money.

And his bed.

He pretends her hair is brown; her eyes are green.

Arella winces.

His armor bites into the small of her back, where Slade's hand is firmly locked around a petite waist.

And now they're both through, Arella panting a bit and glancing at the clock: 11:47 p.m.

Slade takes her wrist and leads her away, down the hall to his room, indicating that he's not..._quite _through.

She follows-happily-they assure themselves, and she hugs him, raising her lips back to his on a sudden impulse.

"I love you too," he says finally, and her smile cracks.

They choose to ignore this, going back where things are so much simpler and physical.

Arella and Slade start kissing again.

If they didn't love each other, they wouldn't be kissing each other.

Of course.


End file.
